


Thievery

by THPuppeteer



Series: The Weeping Wolf [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: But not blinded by it - yet, Im looking at you Loghain you shit, Implied/Referenced Torture, Nathaniel is very absent of this although he is the cause of this entire thing, Tabris is bitter, Warning is important, oh well, really sets the tone to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THPuppeteer/pseuds/THPuppeteer
Summary: "A while back, they caught a thief in the Vigil. Took four wardens to capture him.Gave one of the wardens a black eye, he did. Half-jokingly, they said he might make a good recruit."





	Thievery

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, hello peeps.  
> Here I am again, with more Dragon Age angst.  
> That's good, ain't it? We surely don't have _any_ of that in the original universe.  
>  Anyhow, here's my spin in the whole Warden x Nathaniel dynamics.  
> Hope you like it!

 A _Howe_ , just what she needed right now. 

That name alone was enough to turn her stomach upside down - a lot of memories coming, as waves, back to life. And just like that, he was back - that piece of shit -, with way more than she'd want to remember. 

* * *

The anger when she came back to the Alienage and saw what Howe had done - the purge, the slave-traffic.

The disgust of seeing him face-to-face - hearing his gnarly voice call her talk about her kin as if they were nothing but trash to be cleaned from the streets _._

And the revolt upon walking through his state, seeing the atrocities done there by his hand, alone - since the previous owner had got himself killed and _his parties_ came to an end. 

Killing Rendon Howe was one of the most difficult things she had ever done ever since joining the Wardens. Killing Vaugh had been fine - in the spur of the moment, his head was gone. The Master Slaver, Caladrius? The same thing. Too easy, too straight to the point.

But not Howe. 

She could feel the blood on her veins scream his name. It demanded retribution, for all the blood of her people he spilled. All the lives he ruined. She was going to sate it. That was where lied the problem, though. How could she cause him such pain and such humiliation in a matter that didn't took more than a couple of minutes?

They would still have a job to do there, they had to be quick.

When they came upon the Arl face-to-face, however, all the questions went silent - her ears could only hear the sound of drums booming in expectation, the demands of the blood resonating through her very bones. With a quick signal, Morrigan had his allies paralyzed. Another signal, a request for the entire party to hold. She didn't like crowds, but for him, an exception was due. 

A duel with an elf was just the first blow to his pride. 

The first few swings of swords, and his right knee was on the floor before her, thigh bleeding out. He got up, angry, trying to slash at her a couple of times, only to have a dagger pierced in his other leg. Her foot made sure that dagger stuck deep, a grunt of pain escaping the human as she pinned him down. She took of her helmet, allowing to find it's way to the cold ground beneath her feet. Raising her sword to his neck, made him look at her - at the elf who was just about to take everything from him.  

\- This smell, you know it, don't you? - She could barely hear herself over the noise in her head, but there was no heavy breathing and no relief. There was only this bitterness at the back of her throat, cutting through dialogue.  - How does it _feel_ , Howe, to be scared of an _elf_? 

Before he could spit his words back at her, she slapped him with the back of the sword. 

\- My only regret it's not having the time you had. To make you feel each cut, each slap, each abuse you made my people suffer in your hand and in the hands of the Tevinter scum.

Maker knows, if she had just a little more minutes to spare...

She would have stepped on his crotch, telling him about how the slavers would probably cut off the elves' sack, so they could be used as toys without getting their owners pregnant. Would stab his lower abdome, telling about how they would have made sure to destroy the woman's wombs - in more ways than one - before they were sent to their new masters. But this was no time for revenge, was it? 

She could feel the eyes of her companions peering behind her. There was just so much that would have been acceptable to deviate them from the task at hand. As it were, maybe there was no more time for him - the blood loss already taking his toll on him. 

\- Maker spit on you. - He could not make himself even more despicable on his last moments, could he? - I deserved... more. 

_He could_. 

\- You did. - A murmur, solemn as her expression. She wished she could ruin him, tear him in pieces and hang them to rot on those walls. - But I have no time. 

The snake's tongue would have to do. 

As she crouched by the side of the passed-out noble, the eyes around her had probably thought she would slit his throat and leave it at that. Instead, her dagger rose to his face, a sharp thrust to the inside of his mouth - her writ twisting and twirling, the body debating itself beneath her strength, muffled grunts of pain merging with the sound of gush and ripped skin.  Until she got what she wanted, and the room fell in silence once more. The wet sound of the torn piece of meat falling to the ground, as the mutilated jaw of Rendon Howe bled out beside her - that was the only thing that made it quiet in her head again.

_Blood for blood_.  

As she rose to her feet, and headed towards the door, the companions gathered their wit and followed - not seeing fit the moment to say anything at all. But there were still almost a tenth of men paralyzed in the room. 

\- Burn it down.

The order was swift and sharp. The door was closed behind them after the mage ignited the room. There was still too much to be done - but not nearly as much to be said anymore.

* * *

And now, there was his son. 

They had the same fucking nose, even - it was surprising that she didn't recognized it at first glance. 

She should've been angry, should've had him killed. Not only for trespassing, not only for confessing the attempt to murder her, not only for "stealing". The implications of his name alone were enough. But it struck her, then. As she stared down at the man who elicited the same entitlement that his father once thought he had. 

She had never thought about the repercussion of her action against Howe - the idea of a family behind the name buried deep beneath the façade of a monster. There were no questions made about the passing of his lands to the wardens, or the paintings on the walls, nor the rooms that smelled of memories of someone else.

Now, there were. And she felt like the true thief amidst them.

So, she sent him away - with what was rightfully his. 

_Maker_ , if he had stripped the Keep clean, perhaps it would still not have been enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about so little Nate in this. But this one is more Tabris-centered.  
> Might work on Nate's POV later, though I think his dialogue already sets his thoughts quite well.  
> If you read my work, I would greatly appreciate feedback.  
> Kudos are very nice, but if you think you can spare a few moments to comment on points of the story that you like or you think I need to work on, I'd be grateful. Feel free to point out mistakes as well - as english is not my first language, I feel it's inevitable some mistakes being made. I'm eager to correct them, however.  
> At any rate, thank you for reading if you did - I appreciate it.  
> Hope to see you on a next work!


End file.
